Motive

by Kennedy Layne

  Grace was emotionally drained, but that didn’t stop her heart from fluttering at the four-letter word he’d just uttered.

  Love.

  They had loved one another once. There was no disputing that they had something special back then, just as there was no denying now that their connection was still tethered by a simple common thread.

  Unfortunately, sewing them back together meant she had to let go of the blame she carried around every second of every day. She’d thought she’d been succeeding, but then Brad’s murder had put them both back in the spotlight once again.

  Grace had ignored the numerous missed phone calls from her mother regarding the false arrest. They still weren’t on the best of terms, mostly due to the fact that her mom and stepfather had supported Brandon after his arrest and had applied pressure for her to do the same. That request hadn’t gone over as well as they thought it would, and to this day they all had a bit of a strained relationship since she’d taken it as a personal betrayal.

  No, Grace wasn’t returning her mother’s call until all of this had blown over or Brad’s killer was captured by the police.

  “Are you telling me you would have hired Brandon based solely on his resume?” Grace asked, already knowing the answer from the steady tick of the muscle alongside Rye’s jawline. There were some things that hadn’t changed during those years they’d been apart. “I didn’t think so. His failure sticks to me.”

  Grace could easily recall those eighteen-hour work days that Rye had put in after Brandon’s arrest, the numerous phone calls to clients reassuring them their money was in safe hands, that any and all employees were being thoroughly vetted once again by a professional resource management team, and all of their references personally spoken to by Rye himself. It had been so hard to watch him drive himself into the ground all because he’d done something nice for her by hiring a member of her family.

  In the end, she hadn’t been able take the pressure anymore.

  “I should have walked out of that dinner party the moment I saw you across the room,” Grace murmured regretfully, twirling one of the tassels on the end of the blanket around her finger as she replayed that moment over and over again in her head. An old friend of hers had gotten engaged and thrown a celebration dinner with her closest friends. What Grace hadn’t known was that Missy’s fiancé had also been friends with Rye, resulting in both of them being in attendance. They’d been bound to run into each other at some point, but that hadn’t meant she was ready to face the firing squad yet again. “Let’s face it, you wouldn’t be in this current situation if I’d been smart and just left that fateful night.”

  Rye didn’t say a word to her musings, but instead removed his jacket and laid it across the arm of the overstuffed chair. His tie joined shortly afterward. Her heart began to race in anticipation, but she’d managed to slow it down by the time he’d kicked off his shoes and motioned for her to scoot over.

  For a fleeting second, she thought about trying to find the energy to get up and go into her bedroom. Being near him clouded her judgement.

  Hadn’t that already been proven time and time again?

  It was a futile effort, though, because there had been something fundamental in his demeanor since that crucial night that she hadn’t been able to ignore. She could easily sense it now. It was as if he encompassed an underlying strength and belief in their relationship that she’d lost long ago, and it was downright frightening.

  “Did you ever think that we might not be in this situation if you hadn’t disappeared from my life the first time you ran away?” Rye yanked the blanket from her grasp and joined her underneath the warmth, pulling her close so that her head rested in the nook of his shoulder. How was it possible that everything shifted and became so…perfect? His heat soaked into her, as if to add another layer of defense against the chill that had invaded her body ever since those ice-cold cuffs had been slapped around her wrists. She gratefully slid her arm over his abdomen and allowed his strength to flood her system. “You understand that I’m never allowing that to happen again, don’t you? I’m not letting you go this time, angel.”

  How was it that she could need him so much?

  How was it that she’d lasted this long without his warmth?

  No, she needed to take back those words of regret. The only remorse she suffered from was being the person responsible—yet again—for introducing the mechanism of his potential downfall.

  Rye tenderly kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer, if that was even possible. She finally allowed herself to break down and release the tears she hadn’t allowed herself to cry earlier, knowing full well she was safe in his embrace. She would take what he offered and then suit up for a battle she needed to win.

  Five minutes tops.

  That was the amount of time she would allow herself to wallow in self-pity.

  Grace accepted that the fear she’d experienced about being arrested for a crime she hadn’t committed had been downright horrific, but it was over now. Tomorrow would dawn a new day, and she’d be able to hold her head up high and let the world know she was innocent.

  And she would continue to protect Rye in the process.

  All she had to do was convince him that they should leave the situation alone. There was no need to come clean with the police about their whereabouts the night Brad had been killed. Detective Nielsen had moved on to someone else, leaving Rye in the clear.

  Why muddy the waters when the suspect was elsewhere?

  Suspicion would come full circle and lay solely at Rye’s feet if they weren’t careful on how they handled this situation.

  After all, Rye was one of Manon Investments’ top competitors.

  Detective Nielsen would undoubtedly jump on the glaringly obvious detail that Rye’s whereabouts had been unaccounted for during the exact time of the murder. He would once again be put under a microscope by the financial industry where rumors moved mountains, as well as the media circus where insinuation was almost as good as fact.

  No, she couldn’t allow that to happen again on her watch.

  It had taken Brandon a long time to finally grow a pair of balls, fessing up to the parties that mattered that Rye had not been a part of those specific trades in question. Brandon and his lawyer had tried everything in the book to get a lighter sentence, but in the end, the truth had prevailed in spite of him.

  Eventually, the SEC had cleared Rye of any wrongdoing in the matter.

  But if another sucker punch was taken at his reputation?

  Grace wasn’t about to be the one to throw the right uppercut, so he would just have to accept her silence on the subject. There was no need to discuss tomorrow’s events now.

  Grace burrowed into Rye’s side even deeper, having accepted a while ago that he’d somehow quietly integrated himself back into her life. Not that she was complaining. She’d had years to come to terms with her role in damaging his reputation and with the reality that his firm had almost been destroyed by her stepbrother.

  Growth, maturity, and time had healed a lot of her wounds. The passing years had also taught her independence, and Rye was going to have to accept that the alibi she’d given him was her way of correcting the past.

  “Coffee is on the counter,” Laurel said, her loud words penetrating the fog that had filled Grace’s head. Why was her best friend talking about coffee in the middle of the night? “You have less than an hour to get ready for your appointment. Smith, you should tell Paul that we’re going to be late this morning.”

  “Why is Smith here at this ungodly hour?” Grace mumbled, trying to grab back the welcoming abyss that had been chased away by Laurel. The blanket helped, but Rye shifted a bit and ended up taking the cover with him. “Hey!”

  “We’re the only ones still sleeping.” Rye’s tone contained that morning richness to it that she’d missed for far too long. “It’s time to get up, angel.”

  Angel.

  He used to call her that all the time before thei
r lives had turned to shit.

  Damn it.

  That memory brought up the inevitable argument they were likely to have this morning.

  It was like having cold water splashed into her face.

  “I’m up, I’m up.”

  Grace wasn’t sitting up literally, but she was awake enough to take advantage of the fact that Rye sat up on the couch, giving her more room on the cushions. She buried her face in the decorative pillow, inhaling deeply.

  The faint scent of his cologne was still detectable.

  “Smith, it’s been a long time.” Rye must have stood, because Grace now had the entire couch to herself. She tugged the blanket a little higher. They could all talk the morning away, for all she cared. The more time that passed, the better off they would all be. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  “Here,” Cynthia muttered, suddenly appearing over the back of the couch. Grace tried to groan Cynthia away, but her friend was having none of that. “It’s the coffee that Laurel made, but without all the sugar and cream. Consume the required amount of caffeine so that we can all get our asses moving.”

  A quick peek through Grace’s lashes told her that Cynthia was already dressed for the day.

  Did the woman ever sleep?

  It was doubtful that anyone was expecting Grace to show her face at the office this morning, considering she’d spent all day yesterday behind bars. No one would think anything of it if she were a couple hours late.

  “Obviously, this wasn’t how I’d wanted the announcement made,” Smith said wryly, carrying on the conversation Rye had begun as if she wasn’t still lying face down on the couch. “Paul has agreed to let the no compete clause slide, given the circumstances. I figure I’ll have the new firm ready to go in around nine months, give or take.”

  “Are you going to take this coffee or not?” Cynthia complained, her impatience shining through. She didn’t understand the people who needed caffeine to function. It wouldn’t surprise Grace if her friend took the mug back to the kitchen just to prove a point. “I’m not your maid, Miss Dorrance.”

  Listening to two distinct separate conversations was getting a bit much, so Grace finally relented and rolled over in defeat. She took the mug of hot coffee, but she still gave it a quick glance to ensure it was black, just as she liked it. One sip enabled her to keep up with Rye and Smith’s conversation.

  “Are you going to bring Paul on board?” Rye asked, not moving from his position in front of the couch. Grace used her foot to nudge him to the side, so that she could wave a greeting in Smith’s direction. It was the first time the man had been in her apartment. It was odd, considering that she worked with him on a daily basis and had never had an in-depth conversation with him before all their lives had gone to shit. “Or will he be a free agent?”

  Smith laughed heartily, even throwing his head back as he processed what Rye was attempting with his questions. Grace had to smile, as well, given that Rye was purposefully fishing about who would and who wouldn’t be available to pluck from the unemployment line once Manon Investments closed their doors.

  Paul Slater would definitely be a coup, although Rye did have a good CFO already employed at his firm. Unless there was something she didn’t know, which wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. She and Rye rarely discussed business due to the conflict of interest.

  Who was she kidding?

  She didn’t want to know a thing about his business. The last time she’d gotten involved had been a total disaster.

  “It was just a question, Gallo,” Rye shot off the warning, even garnering a laugh from Cynthia. “I have a very capable CFO, but I’m always looking for talented employees.”

  “I’ll take that as my notice that you’ll be waiting in the wings to pick up an analyst or two.” Smith shared a look with Cynthia, who would no doubt stay on at the newly named firm of Gallo Capital Management. “Your warning is duly noted.”

  Why couldn’t all their days be like this?

  Sure, two men were standing in front of her leaking testosterone all over her living room, but it was better than having blood spilled at the office. At least for the moment, no one was worried about a killer, there was no stress about an impending arrest by the police, and everyone was talking about the future in a positive light. It just confirmed that she was right, and that none of them should rock the boat.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Smith all but promised with a shake of his finger. “I’ll make you a list for Christmas of who might be looking for employment elsewhere. I’ll even wrap it in a nice red bow for you.”

  Grace was pretty sure that Rye told Smith to fuck off, but his words were drowned out by the ringing of his cell phone. He walked over to the overstuffed chair where he’d laid his suit jacket before joining her on the couch last night. It didn’t take him long to answer. He listened for approximately forty seconds before speaking.

  “I appreciate the heads up. Listen, if we need you to give a statement to the police, would you be free to talk with them before your shift starts later this evening?”

  Damn it.

  Grace kicked off the blanket and quickly sat up, trying to catch Rye’s attention. He was purposefully ignoring her, looking out the window at the city landscape.

  “What did I miss?” Laurel whispered, obviously having heard Rye’s side of the phone conversation. She’d stepped into the room and pulled her hair over her right shoulder. She was dressed for work, which told Grace that Smith had brought clothes and toiletries so that he didn’t have to detour back to Laurel’s apartment. “Is everything okay?”

  “We should head out,” Smith replied softly, so as not to disturb Rye. Laurel picked up on the underlying tension anyway. “We’ll call Paul on the way into the office, explaining what’s going on so that he’s not blindsided again.”

  It wasn’t as if Paul Slater didn’t have the particulars on every single employee’s alibi. He was trying to keep Manon Investments afloat until the fund could close its doors properly, and he was accountable to those clients who had put their trust in him to see it through. That included the fact that it was highly possible an employee who had access to the office building could very well be the guilty party.

  Paul didn’t have an easy job of it. She understood that. But he also didn’t get to know every minute detail when it came to their personal lives. Laurel was involved with another employee, Cynthia had been involved with a client—had being the operative word, and Grace was involved with Manon Investments’ top competitor. Not to mention the fact that Steve Lewis, the firm’s head trader, was having an affair with the portfolio manager’s ex-wife. It was the main reason Josh Green had left the firm a few weeks ago.

  Josh believed it to be a stab in the back, and he didn’t want to work with those kinds of people.

  “Do not tell Paul that I lied about my alibi,” Grace warned, standing up from the couch to emphasize how serious she was regarding this matter. “Rye and I need to discuss this in more depth, because it’s a bad idea to go back to the police to change our statements.”

  “And that is our cue to leave,” Cynthia chimed in, grabbing her purse and the overnight bag she’d brought with her before tossing a hand up in the air to say goodbye. The ends of her black strands brushed her contoured jawline. “Let us know what you decide. And call us if you need bail money this time.”

  Grace didn’t find any humor in Cynthia’s statement.

  Laurel crossed the room and gave Grace a quick hug, whispering that everything was going to work out. Was it? Grace wasn’t so sure, but she bit her tongue from arguing and did her best to find what patience she could while waiting for Rye to hang up the phone.

  “Smith, I’m not sure where you parked,” Rye called out right before the trio departed, “but you might want Laurel to ride into work with Cynthia. There are two media crews across the street from the building, waiting to see if and when Grace decides to leave her apartment.”

  “I parked in the garage, thinking
that might become a problem.” Smith’s gaze shifted to Grace, and she suddenly got the feeling that he hadn’t wanted to bring up the sensitive subject that her face was all over the morning news. “Brad’s murder was the major focus on most of the business channels. I’m assuming it’s the same with the local news, but there was a brief mention regarding Grace’s stepbrother.”

  Silence hung in the air once Smith closed the door behind him, the women having already started walking toward the elevator. Grace had thought that since she’d been released, no one would dig that deep into her past. She should have known better.

  The past was never buried.

  She had to prevent her bare feet from running toward the door and calling back her friends, who would no doubt feel somewhat betrayed that she hadn’t been truthful with them. But a bigger problem had landed at the tip of her bare toes.

  Grace ignored the roll of nausea in her stomach at the impending scrutiny from her fellow employees, but she was able to push it back due to Paul’s knowledge of the situation. She’d been upfront with both Paul and Brad during her initial interview. They’d all agreed at the time that no one else needed to know about her family ties to a criminal, especially given that Brandon hadn’t been related to her other than by marriage.

  She needed a bit more time to gather her thoughts and figure out a way to convince Rye that it was in their best interests to forgo the meeting at the police station today. They needed to let this media wave ride out its course before allowing another riptide to take effect. Surely, the police would give a statement saying that she’d been framed and that they had video footage to prove it.